


Souls Lost in Endless Times

by Yanara126



Series: Watcher Favaen, an Eothas Priestess [6]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Emotions, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, It's not all bad, Talking, Talking To Dead People, The Godhammer, Trust, death isn't nice, dying for 20 years even less, that's a tag apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25382551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanara126/pseuds/Yanara126
Summary: Finding Saint Waidwen in an endless loop of his own death wasn't what Favaen had expected when waking up in the Deadfire, but she'll be damned if she doesn't save him, both from Rymrgand and himself. But helping is much harder when you're personally involved, and the first steps on that journey are always rocky ones.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser & The Watcher, Edér Teylecg & The Watcher, Eothas & Waidwen (Pillars of Eternity), Waidwen & The Watcher (Pillars of Eternity)
Series: Watcher Favaen, an Eothas Priestess [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690846
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Souls Lost in Endless Times

**Author's Note:**

> How did this get so long? I honestly don't know. I started out with wanting to do the end of Bridge Ablaze and then introduce two new aspects I wanted. Then I decided it needed more. Now it is a lot more. Oops. Oh well.
> 
> Have fun! :)

As soon as Favaen had seen the beams of divine light in Rymrgand’s realm she had suspected what they would find. So, when they walked through the third and last portal, she wasn’t terribly surprised to see the bridge Edér identified as Evon Dewr. She didn’t like the place at all. It felt crowded and torn, everywhere were souls, trapped in their agony and unable to escape. All because of one, and really there was only one who it could be. One they found, as trapped as the others, frozen in his last moment of life.

Saint Waidwen.

Favaen felt Edér tremble beside her and wished for only a moment this could be different, but as quickly as the wish had come, she’d banished it again. She had a duty to fulfil, to her god and every soul in this realm, living or not. The past could not be changed, only learnt from, and so she would help Edér learn from this, as much as she would.

Only it never was that easy, was it? When Favaen carefully touched Waidwen’s soul, it was the strangest thing she’d ever done, and that was saying a lot by now. Even Thaos had only been mortal, but Waidwen was... something else. He felt like no other soul Favaen had ever touched, like more, and yet not. The core soul was still the soul of a mortal, but it was... stuffed almost, embellished, and coated in more soul energy than any mortal could ever hope to contain. Energy that felt so much like Eothas, Favaen wanted to weep in both relief and sadness. Instead she focused on the man who clearly needed her, whose soul, in spite of its power, had been brutally maimed, to the point where he felt more like a terrified child than a god.

She tried soothing him, gently coaxing him to remain still enough for her to find the rest of him, but even her hold wasn’t strong enough to stop the trauma of one as powerful as he. His consciousness slipped out of her desperate grip, lost once again to terror and turmoil.

Suddenly his body was moving, but without the awareness his soul had portrayed before. He moved and spoke like he no doubt did back then, speaking to an enemy that wasn’t really there anymore.

“ ** _Did they expect a dozen to stand against the dawn?_** ” Favaen couldn’t reply anything as she stood in horror and watched the tragedy unfold. Beside her Edér tensed, eyes wide, for what they all knew was about to happen. Aloth readied his tome, Vatnir drew his staff, and Ydwin prepared her mental shields. Though they were far less personally affected, all of them knew how the story went, and none of them were particularly interested in living, or rather dying, through it.

But none of them had any chance to stop it. Waidwen made his last speech and stepped forward to attack. Then all hell broke loose. Something snapped, too fast for Favaen to identify and the largest bomb ever created exploded. In a desperate attempt to save herself and her friends, Favaen pulled all the soul energy she could get a grip on and formed a shield, similar to the one they had used five years ago, in Sun in Shadow. Screwing her eyes shut and hands lifted, she tensed and prayed, no matter how futile an attempt she knew it to be, waiting for the inevitable pressure and heat.

Nothing happened. She only uncoiled when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder and hesitantly opened her eyes again, to find Aloth standing next to her. He wordlessly pointed forward, a grim expression on his face. Favaen looked and immediately closed her eyes again. The bridge had changed before them, the explosion had happened, just not to them apparently.

Or rather the explosion was happening. Once again frozen in time, the bridge was in the process of being torn apart, pieces of stone hanging motionlessly in the air. And Waidwen was lying before them, on the same piece they were standing on. All three pieces of him, burnt almost beyond recognition. Favaen felt like throwing up, and judging by the retching sound from her right, so did Edér. At least there was no smell in this realm.

As much as the corpse repulsed her, it also had an almost magnetic pull. Every cell in her body screamed at her to keep away, but something in her soul commanded her to go nearer. Still nearer. Until she was kneeling down next to him.

What was recognizable of his face was contorted in pure agony leaving nothing of the godly aura he’d carried just moments before. Still shaken to her core, Favaen reached out to his soul again, and though its presence was still undeniable, it was mauled as much as the body, making it impossible for her to do anything but pull back and leave him to his suffering.

As she felt the first tears run down her cheeks, someone gently pulled her back, but again there was a strange, familiar calling in her soul, quickly drowning out everything else, and she pulled out of the grip on her shoulders.

There was something she had to do, something she had to take… The rest of the world, including her friends, vanished in a smear of colour and need.

She woke again to the feeling of stone behind her back and the sound of fighting. Instincts kicked in and she scrambled up to aid her friends, only to see Aloth take care of the last enemy with some well-placed minor missiles.

“You good again?” Edér looked at her with a worried expression, sword still in hand an positioned in front of her, shielding her from the battle. It caused Favaen’s guilt to rise as it always did, though she hardly had control over her spontaneous watcher trances. Though, was that what that had been?

She nodded and opened her mouth to assure them, but suddenly noticed something in her hand. It was a sundial, simple and strangely unmarred.

“When you crawled over there you pulled that off of him. We couldn’t get you to let go of it,” Aloth said, face as concerned as Edérs as he put his grimoire away, yet posture as confident as he’d always been since they met up in the Deadfire. Despite the situation Favaen couldn’t help but smile at him. She was so glad to have him back and so proud of him for having grown so much in her absence. Aloth blushed and looked away, and the only reason Favaen didn’t start giggling was the sundial in her hand digging into a small cut, painfully bringing her back to reality. Or rather, Waidwen’s reality.

The calm moment broke, only to have something completely different follow it, something coming from the sundial. A ray of warm light broke out around them and without even thinking Favaen sank to her knees, staring in awe as her god appeared before her. Even after following Him across the ocean, talking to Him almost face to face twice already, it was a magical moment. There was no form to him, no discernible figure, only the light and the comforting weight of his presence, though it felt… less and yet heavier, weighed down by something Favaen had seen and felt all too often on her travels.

“You grieve for what happened here...” Favaen mumbled under her breath, not really meant for anyone but herself, yet as it happened all too often when He was involved, her mouth developed its own life.

“ _Always.”_ The sound of his voice resonated across the bridge and Favaen was suddenly reminded that she was the only one here to have talked to Him before. The other’s stared, with varying degrees of distrust and wonder on their faces. “ _This man, Waidwen, he had a life that I invaded and delivered to death. I am the piece of the Dawnstars that lingered, delayed by grief.”_

Grief. A concept she was all too familiar with now, not in small part due to Eothas himself, and still she couldn’t hate Him for it. There had to be reason for His actions, and He’d promised to tell her soon, but for now she would help Him however she could. Rymrgand the old goat be damned. Not that she particularly cared about Rymrgand’s opinion in the first place.

They talked, and even through all the horrors of this world, Favaen could feel her spirits rising at finally, after twenty years, being able to commune with her god again, without the looming threat of separation and whatever he had planned. Being able to soak up His light and attention like she’d last been able to when she was still almost a child was exhilarating. He had a mission for her, and though He phrased it like a request, she could never deny Him, especially not this, not when she could feel the pain permeating everything and everyone around her.

She felt somewhat guilty again, at having dragged her companions, and Edér especially, along with her, but there had been no indication of what they would find, and every one of them had willingly agreed to enter Rymrgand’s realm with her, so there was no point in regret now.

After their talk Eothas’ form vanished again, but Favaen could still feel His presence in the beams of light breaking through the icy clouds around her, and there was nothing that could have motivated her better. Without judgement or hesitation, she offered Edér to opt out on this one, to wait for them behind the portal.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to know this as much as you do,” he answered, a slightly forced smile on his face.

Favaen nodded calmly, internally relieved. Her God was with her again, and though that brought her the comfort she had so dearly missed, this world, this moment, still weighed heavy on her soul as she felt a foreign desperation claw at her. Edér had become as much of a constant in the last years as Eothas and having him by her side grounded her more than Eothas with His overwhelming power and being ever could have.

She loved Aloth dearly, and Ydwin and even Vatnir were already valued companions, but none of them could truly understand the significance of this single moment in history they were standing in. None of them had any personal connection to this, they hadn’t fought this war, they hadn’t felt a connection in their soul, that had become the centre of their lives, break away and crumble. They hadn’t spent 20 years of lives asking questions without ever receiving answers.

And so, steeling herself for the horrors, and hopefully answers, that were to come, Favaen rallied her friends and stepped over the rubble of a tragedy long past into the divine light, offering the sundial and turning back the time to before the blast that had changed everything.

Favaen led her group through the nightmare that was the Godhammer, presenting a picture of serene determination. A picture she knew would not fool her two oldest friends, but she had no other coping mechanism. All the while, she always kept close to Edér, for both their sakes. He was doing pretty well, but she could feel the anxiety radiate off of him anyway. Not she blamed him for it. She too could feel the weight of the trauma inflicted here growing ever heavier, but she’d long accepted that it wasn’t her place to openly feel doubt or pain. Too many responsibilities were hers to carry now to let such things get to her, at least right now. Later, she promised herself. Later she would grieve for all that had happened here.

‘Make him whole again’ Eothas had said, and right now there was no power in this realm or any other that would stop Favaen from doing just that. Rymrgand could throw a tantrum if he wanted too, it wouldn’t change anything. She wouldn’t let Saint Waidwen of all people be a victim of this place. Not that she would leave anyone else here, she would lead all of the souls trapped by the incredible power of his soul back to the wheel, but his presence here was personal.

And the more of his fragments, of his memories, she picked up, the more personal it became.

When Favaen carefully pulled a ragged piece of his soul out of the bomb, she watched as his father threw him into the cold, dark lake, felt as his contempt for both his father and Eothas rose, and saw herself in younger years, full of anger and resentment.

On a crumbling balustrade, she watched as Waidwen scorned his father even on his deathbed, felt how there was still no relief for him, and saw her own desperate first attempts at peace in all the wrong ways.

At the edge of a cliff, she watched as Eothas appeared to him in that field, felt as he finally had a purpose for the first time, and saw her own homecoming to Eothas.

By the time she stood on a tower and watched as Waidwen calmly accepted his end, watched Eothas silently say goodbye and felt both their regret and pain, she wanted to break down and cry. But the past was what it was and was unchangeable, only the future remained. So, she did what she always did, she swallowed down her own sadness and heartache and continued on her chosen path with determination, so that it, and He, would lead her to a better day.

With one last, slightly shaking, comforting gesture for Edér, Favaen turned the sundial one last time, to take her to the moment before the tragedy. Standing before Waidwen, frozen in time except for the small part of his soul that still reacted to her, she summoned up all her confidence, all her conviction. She would not fail him. Either of them.

She let her watcher’s senses take over, carefully releasing the last part of his soul and it slid back to Waidwen, seamlessly slotting into its place, and completing a once broken entity.

The spell of agony suddenly unravelled, the chaos of tumultuous energy calmed down and fizzled out, leaving behind a stable but slowly draining power. With a start Favaen realized she had been wrong. She’d thought that there were others here as well, trapped by Waidwen, however unintentionally, being dragged along in the same cycle. But as all the soul energy flowed back to the man in front of her, Favaen recognized that there had only been him the whole time. All the shadows of souls she had felt had been a part of his memories, built by the immense power threading through his own soul, like the rainwater filled cracks in the pavement, to make sense of a situation his damaged mind couldn’t. Even the priestess must’ve been a product of his own psyche and for a second Favaen was curious about what that meant for the knowledge she’d had.

But the question quickly vanished from her mind when the pull of essence ebbed away, and the light let up. Before them stood a young man, and even though the divine glow was gone and he still looked a little unstable on his feet, Favaen couldn’t help the thought that now he looked far more like the people’s king Adaryc had told her about.

“I… thank you, friend. I’m struggling to understand it all, but my thoughts are clearer now.” His growing grin was strangely infectious and Favaen almost snorted. Yeah, no shit his thoughts were clearer now, than when his soul had literally been sprinkled all over the place.

His eyes glinted with a spark of mirth and Favaen realized that he probably didn’t need outward reactions any more than she did. He may not be a watcher, but in all likelihood the pure power tethered to his soul even now would’ve given him similar abilities.

“I think I accept why this needed to happen, but it is only human to feel conflicted.” The grin crumbled a little, and he frowned, looking over the realm and specifically the images of people still standing frozen in an eternal fight around them. “There is a lesson, a purpose to the Godhammer that I failed to grasp. Eothas wanted the people of the world to stand tall, without gods propping them up.”

Favaen heard shifting behind her and didn’t need to turn to know why. That topic was an important one for all the people behind her. Edér had been struggling with his faith in Eothas since they came here and Favaen hadn’t been in the best of situations to help him. Aloth had grown independent and had made it his life’s goal to help other people become so too, developing a downright hatred for the gods, and though it saddened Favaen a little, she’d meant it when she’d told him she rather he live a good life than worship her god. Ydwin had made her distaste for the state of the world perfectly clear. And Vatnir… Vatnir was a special case. Put in a position to worship a god he didn’t love just for looking like he did. Yet another reason to shove Rymrgand in the deepest crack of the beyond and seal it shut, if you asked Favaen.

“The Godhammer didn’t just tear Eothas from my body. It drove a wedge between gods and kith across Eora. And isn’t that just a version of what he always wanted?” Waidwen looked at her with a piercing gaze and though he wasn’t a cipher, Favaen still felt as though he saw right through her. She let him. There was no reason not to.

“Maybe you’re right. Because of Eothas, mortals saw a god annihilated.” And though she wished it hadn’t been Him, who else would’ve done it? Waidwen nodded thoughtfully.

“Taking on that burden of suffering wasn’t in Eothas’ original plan, but it served him well enough that he was content to keep his distance for a few quiet years.” So, he knew at least this much then. But something about his casual behaviour, the way he just shrugged it all off now, even though he’d been caught in an agonizing cycle of death for twenty years, rubbed her the wrong way. Try as she might, she couldn’t tell if he really believed it or was just putting on a show for them.

“It wasn’t Eothas who really suffered though, was it?” Once again, her mouth was faster than her impulse control, but seeing as it was true, she couldn’t regret saying it. Waidwen looked like he wanted to answer something, but in the end closed his mouth again a more resigned look on his face, shaking his head and turning away.

“Does it matter? I can feel oblivion tugging at me harder than before, now that I’m free, so we won’t have time to savour the victory either way, friend.” He stared at his slowly dissolving hand with mild interest, holding it against the light still falling into the realm, which somehow seemed to dim at his words.

No. Oh no. Favaen would not let him get away that easily, for both his sake and theirs. ‘Make him whole again’ Eothas had said, and she intended to keep him that way now. There would be no true peace for him until he’d forgiven himself everyone else, no salvation from just simply ceasing to exist. She would sooner drag him out of here kicking and screaming by scruff of his neck than let Rymrgand win this, though she’d rather avoid that. She wouldn’t return to Nekataka and tell Adaryc that she’d let his, their, prophet succumb to the nothing.

While Favaen was stewing in her own resolve, Edér and Aloth shared a look behind her. Neither knew whether to be amused or concerned. Out of everyone in their group, they’d known her longest and they both knew what was going on her head. Hopelessness had always been her greatest motivator and coming from Saint Waidwen it was basically a call to war. Before either of them could decide on how to react, Favaen fell back into the role she played the best.

“No.” Waidwen blinked at her, confusion clear as she glared at him, her back straight, feet planted firmly on the ground. Everything about her posture screamed confidence and determination, her voice calm but firm.

“No?”

“No. I will not leave you here to slowly fall apart because of your fear of your father.” Waidwen stared, for once speechless at her audacity. The people behind her cringed, though they didn’t know the details, her tone and his reaction alone were indication enough that it was bad. Waidwen’s stunned expression shifted into one of indignation.

“Excuse me? And what do you know about it?” For a second Favaen faltered at seeing his defensive stance, but defiance alone had never been enough to stop her. Not from him and not from her own screaming heart.

“Everyone who loved you abandoned you. Eothas was no exception. Come with me – it ends now.” Favaen watched as an amalgamation of emotions crossed Waidwen’s face, ranging from anger, over shame and fear, to grief, and she had to physically force herself to stand her ground. She stretched out one hand and waited. As much as she wanted to just step forward and hold him close, as much she wanted to just grab him and take him away from this horrible place, it had to be his choice. She would do everything in her power to convince him, but he had to make the first step. If she didn’t give him the choice now, if she made herself the enemy instead of a pillar of support, it would only hurt him more.

Everything else faded into the background, the bridge, her companions, even her own pain at Eothas’ choices, all were unimportant in the face of one she could save. And so, she smoothed all signs of doubt and fear from her face, waiting patiently for his reaction.

A reaction he took his time with. Waidwen stared into her face first, the stream of emotions never letting up, and looking into her eyes as if he hoped to find the answers to all his questions there. When he couldn’t find what he was looking for, his gaze swept downward to her outstretched hand. Slowly, agonizingly slowly he raised his own. He never looked away from her hand, until he had hesitatingly placed his in hers.

Favaen firmly took hold of it and in silence thanked Eothas that souls were tangible in this place. When Waidwen looked up again a certain calm had come over him. The desperation was gone, and in its place, a tentative spark of hope had appeared. He nodded slowly and in a flash the king was back, his posture straight and confident again. He gripped her hand with fervour and stepped forward, right through her and into the in-between, joining the souls already following her.

With his departure, so went the pressure on Favaen, and like the strings on a puppet were cut, she sagged to her knees. The world came back into focus with a gentle pair of hands holding her up. Favaen tried her best to keep her composure, but everything was just too much. Eothas, Waidwen, the inquisitor, the king of Ukaizo, this whole horrible place, everything crashed into her at once and with a helpless, choked sob she whirled around and buried her face in Aloth’s chest.

For a while they just sat between the rubble on the ground, Aloth wordlessly holding her while she was sobbing her heart out. Soon another hand, that could only belong to Edér, joined in, gently brushing through her hair, his firm, yet still somehow soft chest against her back. After what could’ve been minutes or hours, she calmed down again but couldn’t bring herself to leave the comforting huddle just yet. Instead a completely different thought found its way into her mind, causing her to let out a wet and breathless giggle.

“Adaryc will have a heart attack.” Edér snorted, not taking his hand away.

“I’m pretty sure everyone will with that story. I still can’t believe you somehow adopted Saint Waidwen.”

“Are you sure we should really be telling people about this?” Favaen pushed away a little bit, only just enough to properly look Aloth in the face. He let her and lowered his arms, looking down at her, brow creased with obvious worry. That look was enough incentive for Favaen to pull herself back together. She still had a job to do, and her friends were relying on her.

With a deep breath she pulled herself up, bathing in Eothas’ divine light wit closed eyes, which still shone through the now slowly dissolving realm. She soaked up the serenity it offered and slipped back into her role as leader.

“For now, we should concentrate on taking care of that dragon. We can discuss what to do with the information later.” And she wanted to discuss that with Waidwen as well. Though it would hardly affect him, being dead and all, it was still about him, and he deserved to have his voice heard as long as he could. But later. Later when there wasn’t the vague threat of Rymrgand’s ice taking over the world hanging over them, when she hopefully felt stable enough to face him again without breaking down in tears.

Getting to her feet again, Favaen noticed a few things. For one, both Vatnir and Ydwin had apparently decided to stand guard a little apart from the group, clearly uncomfortable with her outburst. With a pang of guilt, she resolved to treat them all to a day in the luminous bathhouse at the next opportunity. Also, when she looked around, all the soldiers were gone. Aside from them, no other person was around anymore, which confirmed Favaen’s theory about it all being a fabrication of Waidwen’s damaged mind. Not even Eothas seemed to remain, though his light was still present, now that Waidwen was no longer a prisoner of this realm.

Before she could think too much about the emotions that sparked in her, she pushed Favaen the priestess to the back of her mind and became once again Favaen the Watcher. Help. Move on. Fulfil the mission.

* * *

Finally. Finally it was over. The dragon was released from her prison without harming anyone and Rymrgand had gotten what he deserved. Even Vatnir seemed to have found enough courage to leave behind his people, who were preparing to return to the White that Wends.

For once Favaen was actually eager to return to her ship to fall into her bed and sleep the whole way back to Nekataka. She was completely drained, both physically and emotionally and dreaded having to recount the last mission for the others.

As soon as they reached the shore, something adamantly pulled on her Watcher’s senses. She stopped and looked to the side, giving into the pull and seeing Waidwen step out of the in-between, an incredulous look on his face as he watched the boat before them, more specifically the name painted on the bow.

“You named your ship after me?” he asked, turning to face her with a playful grin on his face. Favaen blushed a little and avoided his gaze.

“Well… it’s funny watching people squirm when they say it.” Favaen was very aware that she wasn’t immune to the occasional act of spite, though she tried to keep it as harmless as possible. Naming her new ship “Waidwen” had certainly been one of them, affording her short moments of hilarity every time they docked somewhere new. Though it had earned her a very disappointed look from Adaryc and a rather lengthy speech from the priestess at the Gaun temple. Xoti had thought it was funny.

“I guess there’s more to you after all than just stubbornness.” He was looking at her again as if she were holding the secrets of the universe in her soul. Favaen cleared her throat and did her best to stand up to his scrutiny.

“I’ve been told I’m rather… blasphemous for a priestess.” Waidwen snorted.

“How’s that? With that outfit you could’ve put me in my glory days to shame.”

“Well for one, I very much enjoyed beating Rymrgand’s face in.” With a dark look Favaen glared to the side, remembering the god’s audacity at trying to claim her soul, when it already very clearly belonged to another. Oh, and Berath. But that wasn’t going to last.

“He did look like an asshole,” Waidwen said, nodding very seriously before cracking a smile again. Favaen just continued glowering off into the middle distance.

“Yes, apparently it lies in his nature,” she grumbled, before realizing who she was talking to. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk like that. He just makes me so angry.” She shook her head to clear it, feeling guilty at having unloaded that all on him. Not only because he was, well, Saint Waidwen, but also because he really had suffered much worse at Rymrgand’s hands. Still, it didn’t seem to bother him much, which in turn bothered Favaen, but she decided to deal with that later when she didn’t feel so much like shit.

“Please, by all means, go ahead. Being angry at a god is what made me a saint.” The mischievous grin on his face faded as a frown took its place. “Although... maybe avoid that after all, didn’t end too well for me.” That admission, though she’d been waiting for it, left Favaen floundering for something to say. In the end she decided to stay quiet, silently lamenting the fact that she couldn’t at least touch him anymore. He seemed to want to say something more, so she waited until he found the right words.

“Is... is my name really that... hated now?” Favaen sighed and almost regretted telling him the truth, but only almost. Lies wouldn’t do anyone any good in the long run, no matter how comforting.

“I wouldn’t say hated necessarily, but you didn’t make yourself very popular in most corners of the world. Although the Huana don’t really care for the most part. It’s the Dyrwood and Aedyr that really despise you. The Vailians and Rauatains just get twitchy because the implications make them nervous.” Waidwen nodded thoughtfully, giving no answer beyond that.

“Hey Favaen, you coming?” The unexpected shout startled Favaen out of her contemplation and she turned to see Edér standing by the ship, looking back at her with a questioning look.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” she shouted back. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she found Waidwen already gone again and so hurried to the ship, filing that conversation back for later. For now, she would lock herself in her quarters and not get up for at least a day. Hopefully. With her luck probably not.

She shared a tired smile with Edér when he helped her up the ladder. He didn’t look much better than her, but still there seemed to be a weight lifted from his shoulders. No matter how tired she was, how angry at Rymrgand, that relief was worth all the hassle.

Finally on the boat, she stumbled past the rest of the crew, as her legs really started hurting at that point. Aloth was already explaining what had transpired and had apparently already introduced their latest crewmember. Favaen threw him a thankful and very relieved look, to which he responded with a nod in direction of the stairs and an exasperated but affectionate smile.

The most urgent job taken care of, Favaen didn’t feel so bad at locking herself away. Vela was busy playing with Tekehu, so she was taken care of as well, and no one needed her for now. With a heavy sigh she pulled off the little armour she wore and fell into her bed, mushing her face into the pillow and not even bothering with the blanket. In seconds she was out.

* * *

Favaen woke not to the sound of someone frantically beating against her door as she’d expected, but instead to a comfortable quiet with only the gentle waves hitting the boat. While that was unexpected, it wasn’t the real surprise. The real surprise was the slightly translucent form sitting at the wall of her cabin, staring out the small window.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Favaen mumbled into the bedding, still sluggish from sleep and eyes sticky. She was too tired to really be disturbed by this. Waidwen turned around with a slight start, obviously not expecting her to be awake, but caught himself quickly. Again, that snarky smile of his appeared.

“So I’ve been told. But what makes you say that right now?” Favaen rolled onto her back, her arm having begun to ache from lying so long at that awkward angle, and tilted her head backwards to keep him in sight. Her hair was still hanging in her face, but the act of rolling over alone had taken too much energy already for her to bother with it.

“None of the other souls ever did that.” Waidwen raised one eyebrow at her almost unintelligible slurring.

“Did what?” Somewhere in Favaen’s sleep muddled brain, she recognized that he probably didn’t have her experience with dead people. The rest of her brain however decided that that was rubbish.

“That.” There. Enough information. Waidwen was still staring at her, obviously confused. When she made no move to explain herself, he rolled his eyes. Suddenly something briskly pulled on her soul, jerking her awake with violence. Adrenaline flooded through her system and she shot up assessing the room with wide eyes. The only thing she found was Waidwen wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“That for example.” Favaen glared at him, her annoyance overshadowing any feelings of awe and respect. That didn’t seem to deter him though, instead he just grinned wider, and for the first time Favaen was sure that he meant it. That took the wind out of her sails and her frustration ebbed away. With a sigh she leant against the wall behind her. Now that she was awake, they might as well have that conversation. “Just being here. Without my help I mean. Usually I have to consciously call on the souls following me, or at least help them with materializing. I never woke up to one sitting next to my bed.” She frowned a little. “And while we’re on that, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make that a habit. You’re welcome to talk me whenever, but maybe don’t just show up when I’m sleeping. It’s... well to be honest it’s a little creepy.” She’d never thought she’d ever say that to Saint Waidwen of all people, but his simple look and friendly demeanour made it very easy to forget who he actually was. While Favaen knew on a factual level who she was talking to, her emotions told her he was just another lost soul in need of some time before moving on to the wheel.

“I’m sorry, I’m not really used that concept anymore.“ Waidwen frowned, and Favaen recognized the spark of guilt in the crease of eyebrows. “Once you share your entire being with a god, the notion of privacy gets a bit muddled, no matter how considerate said god is.” Though she had never experienced what he had, she could still empathize. Berath’s random calls were annoying enough, if she constantly had the pallid knight’s voice in her ear, she too would forget certain things. Also, while Waidwen was much harder to read than anyone else she’d ever met, with the exception of Thaos maybe, she could still sense an undeniable air of anxiety emanating from him. That, of course, couldn’t be tolerated.

“I’m not mad, I promise,” she said, using the same voice she’d use for a frightened kitten. Sometimes people just needed to be emotionally petted, especially the souls she tended to work with. “I’d just like to know why you came. It can’t be terribly interesting to listen to me snoring.” The joke didn’t seem to land as she’d intended. Waidwen did crack a smile, but it was flimsy and hardly worth the name. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came, and he just stared vaguely under her bed. Favaen waited patiently. They had time.

“There’s a cat under your bed,” was what he finally said. Favaen blinked a little. She slid her feet off the bed and bowed down, peering under the cot. A quiet purring greeted her, and in the dim light she could see the animancer cat staring back at her. She sat back up.

“So there is.” It wasn’t terribly surprising. She’d developed a... habit of adopting absolutely every animal that would let itself be adopted, so the whole ship was filled with pets, much to Edér’s delight and Aloth’s annoyance. Still, she didn’t see the connection.

“I... I tried to pet it.” Oh. Oh! That made Favaen realize what must’ve happened. His dejected stare, aimed at anywhere but her, broke her heart all over again. And for once she didn’t know how to help. She’d never had this kind of problem before, usually the souls either left themselves after a few kind words and reassurances, or they just needed a bit more time to accept their own passing. None of them had ever been this independent as to attempt to interact with the physical world. For the most part they weren’t even aware of it. She wanted to console him, she wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, but she knew trying would only make it worse.

So, it was time for a new strategy. Favaen took a deep, long breath, counting to four, held it for seven, and released it for eight, letting go of all her feelings of helplessness along with it. With nimble hands she untied her two braids, letting her ruffled, fiery hair fall freely over shoulders. She unclasped the cape still on her shoulders, took off her necklace and prayer beads, and unravelled the layers of fabric of her priest’s attire. When she was done, sitting on the bed in only her undershirt and cotton trousers, there was no sign of her being an Eothasian priestess, a herald of the gods, the captain of a ship, or the lady of a castle. She was only a woman, just like he was now only a man.

“I won’t pretend to understand how you feel. I have never been in your situation. But I promise you this, I will do whatever you think is necessary for you to move on. I will not leave you. I will not abandon you. And someday, whenever that will be, whenever you feel ready, I will let you go.” The promise hang in the air between them, heavy with importance, not because of who it came from, or who it was meant for, but because of its meaning.

Neither of them moved or talked. They just looked at each other, much like they had back on the bridge, only this time there was no expectation, no call for action, only the reassurance, whether he believed it or not. After a long, though not necessarily uncomfortable silence, Waidwen nodded, and a bit of the tension bled away, both on his face and in the atmosphere, leaving behind a lighter melancholy radiating off him.

“I had a friend once. He didn’t think much of my station either and wasn’t afraid to call me out on my shit.” He looked at her with a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless as he remembered better days.

“Would you like us to go find him?” she offered. Whether the friend was dead or still alive, she would do her best if it would help him.

“I think... I would appreciate that. We didn’t part on the best of terms.” That was a feeling she could understand, though she herself had never had the courage to seek out her parents again. “He was there that day. I knew… I knew how it was going to end. Not in detail maybe, but I knew I wasn’t going to leave that bridge again. Usually he was right there with me, but for all the people I was willing to drag down with me, I was selfish. I ordered him to the back, far away from the front lines. He didn’t take it very well. Especially after he’d already told me again and again not to go to there in first place.” And Waidwen’s death would’ve been another blow, one that might easily have swayed fondness to resentment. Favaen didn’t need to reach for him with her watcher’s senses to know how afraid he was of that reaction. She had lived with the same fear for half her life. “For all I know he’s still in Readceras.”

“I promise we will go find him and you will be able to say your piece.” A promise she was confident she could keep, not that she would’ve ever made it otherwise. Even if the friend was dead, perhaps she could find an agreement with Berath. Somehow, she would do this. But first… “First, I have to handle the matter of Eothas, though.” Handle, support… thwart. She wasn’t sure anymore. She loved her god, more than she would ever be able voice, but what he was doing now… No. She shouldn’t think like that. There had to be good reason for his actions. There had to be.

Waidwen frowned. “Yeah, what is that about anyway?” An excellent question that Favaen wished with all her heart she could answer.

“I honestly don’t know. He…” The words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat. It was one thing to know what happened, another to accept and acknowledge it. But then, wasn’t that what she wanted to help Waidwen with? She refused to be hypocrite. “He possessed a giant adra statue under my castle, destroyed said castle, killing me and my subjects, took part of my soul and is now marching across the Deadfire to an unknown location, absorbing every soul in His path.” Favaen had to take a deep breath, after having blurted it all out in one go. A slight blush dusted her cheeks at the rather undignified display.

Waidwen just stared at her, slowly blinking. Her face reddened even more, the longer he just gaped at her in silence. Finally, he smacked his lips once.

“You know, I want to call you a liar, but you’re way too unconvincing for that right now. Also, killed? I feel like I’m missing something here.” With a very deliberate motion he lifted his translucent hand, gave it a hard a look and slowly turned back to her. Favaen almost wished Berath would call her again.

“Yeah it’s… it’s complicated. I’m not sure myself really. All I remember is the castle suddenly collapsing and this excruciating pain…” The words brought back the few memories she had of the encounter, the absolute terror at not knowing what was happening, the short spark of hope that was immediately swallowed by agony. “Next thing I remember is standing behind the shroud and moving towards the wheel. Berath offered me a deal. My life in exchange for becoming her herald and following Eothas. The decision wasn’t very hard.”

“I’m pretty sure if still had a body, I’d have headache.” He sighed, seemingly steeling himself for something, looking into a corner again. “I guess you want me to talk to him, eh?” It was Favaen’s turn to stare. Somehow that simple question had completely short-circuited her brain. Her thoughts were both incomprehensibly fast and aggravatingly slow. Finally, something snapped back into place.

“I don’t want you to do anything. If you wish to speak to Him, I will make sure you have the opportunity, but I will never make you do something.” She gave him a few moments to truly let it sink in. “Just like it is your choice how we handle the news about you.”

“You mean whether you’ll tell anybody?” Favaen nodded. “I… I’d prefer it if you kept it quiet. My reign is over, and it should stay that way.” Favaen nodded again, this time pursing her lips in thought.

“Alright. In that case, I’ll have to figure something out with Serafen and Ydwin before meeting with Adaryc again.” Waidwen turned back to her with start.

“Adaryc?” He went back to staring into the middle distance, contemplatively chewing on his lower lip. “Adaryc, Adaryc…”

“Adaryc Cendamyr. He was a soldier in your army.” Though why he would’ve known a random young soldier, Favaen didn’t know. He still didn’t seem quite satisfied with that answer though. Suddenly he shot up, eyes glittering with recognition.

“The servant boy! But what does he have to do with anything?” Favaen decided to ignore that connection. There would be more than enough time for this later, for now she just wanted to get the necessary exposition out of the way and get back to bed. The adrenalin from his shock earlier (And how did he do that anyway? Questions for later.) was starting to wear off and a familiar weight was creeping back into her limbs.

“He’s a commander now and in the Deadfire as well. More importantly though, he’s a watcher as well. Since I have very little experience with other watchers, I have no idea if just stuffing you into the in-between is going to keep him from sensing you. And we’ll have to talk to him if we want any hope of finding your friend.” After a second of deliberation she added: “He’s a good man and still very much devoted to his country and you. He won’t go against your wishes.”

“A watcher, hm?” He seemed to drift off again a bit, his form shifting into different positions without actually moving. Under his, well not breath, but what else would you call it? Language was very inconsiderate to the dead. Favaen shook her head in attempt to wake up again. She tended to start deliberating strange things the more tired she became. The words that had sounded suspiciously like ‘explains a lot’ had already disappeared from her mind.

“I guess we can decide what to do about him later. Sounds like you’ll be busy for a while yet anyway.” Was he shifting again or was her brain just filtering too much?

“Hmm,” she hummed affirmatively, mentally planning out her timetable, while trying to keep the fuzzy feeling in her head at bay. “I always wanted to go down to Readceras. I never got to the see the musical.”

“What musical?” Waidwen asked, and Favaen blanched. Why did her mouth always have to be faster than her brain? She cleared her throat pointedly looked to the door.

“I didn’t say musical.” Waidwen’s eyes narrowed, some of the light-heartedness in the air freezing up.

“Okay, now you’re lying. What are you not telling me?” Favaen’s resistance was already crumbling. As much as she didn’t really want to explain that to him, she’d been raised better than to lie, much less to a saint. She started rubbing her fingernails against each other in a nervous gesture. She really didn’t know him well enough to know how he would react.

“Well, about two years ago a group of young artists first premiered a musical called ‘Saint Waidwen’ at the annual commemoration day. Since then they’ve played it every month, because it’s so popular with young adults. Though the older generation tend to see it more as… well, heresy.” Despite the fact that she could feel her face grow hot and red, she was also incredibly relived when Waidwen’s face split into broad grin.

“I hope you understand that we’ll definitely go see that later.”

“You’re taking this impressively well.” She herself was rather mortified at the knowledge that Kana was literally singing her praises, not that she would’ve had the heart to stop him. It was one thing to speak in front of the masses herself, a completely different one to have someone else tell your story. She trusted Kana, but still the idea made her uncomfortable.

“Are you kidding me? Before there were just a bunch of old people who kept trying to make boring paintings of me. A musical sounds much more entertaining!” He seemed legitimately excited and Favaen felt a warm feeling rise in her chest. Quietly she vowed to herself to get tickets as soon as this was over. “And a bit of heresy salts the soup. They’d have to try to really piss me off.“

And that sentence more than anything else she’d seen of him, proved that something, somewhere along the line had gone horribly wrong, and for the life of her Favaen didn’t understand what. Of all gods, Eothas had always been the closest to kith, had meant well with his decisions and had been worshipped for just that. Waidwen, this man before her, was neither the monster nor the saint she’d heard about. He was a young man, broken by his circumstances and rebuilt by pure stubbornness and spite. Both of them were good people. So why, why oh why had it gone so badly? How did a country with this man as king still stay so stuck in their ways with no tolerance for difference? Why had an essentially bloodless rebellion turned into a religious purge and a brutal war? Why did so many people have to die? Eothas, tell me why!

Favaen started when a hand waved directly in front of her face, creating no wind at all while almost touching her nose.

“Are you okay? You looked really down there for a second.” At some point Waidwen had kneeled down before her, or maybe he glitched his way there again, Favaen was too weary to question his abilities at that point. He was looking at her, worried frown on his face. For a moment she saw Edér’s face before her, years ago when he’d woken her from another nightmare from a life long past.

With all her might she forced a strained smile on her face. She did not have the mental capacity in that moment to deal with any of this.

“Yes, of course. I just haven’t slept enough yet is all.” She could see something in him slam shut at her denial, and she wanted to slap herself. Waidwen stood up with a nod, clearly making to retreat back into the in-between. In a desperate attempt to repair whatever she had just broken, she forced herself to her feet as well.

“Wait! I…” She swallowed as he indeed stopped, wearing the same mask of careful neutrality she herself had worn so many times, when the risk was too great too speak her mind. “I promise we’ll talk about it, but I’m just not in a good enough shape right now.” All her exhaustion and fatigue, both mental and physical, resonated with her words. That was all the heart she could bear to expose. She could only hope it was enough.

His mask crumbled a bit, the skin around his eyes crinkling and their light dulling. It might’ve been a trick of the light, or something else entirely, but even his already translucent skin seemed paler and his hair stringier. He looked as exhausted as she felt.

“Neither of us are.” The words were delivered flat and distant, almost like from another time. The next moment he was gone, leaving behind Favaen alone in her quarters that suddenly felt too dark, even though the evening shone clearly through the small window. She didn’t know if she’d succeeded or if she’d just entirely ruined every chance she’d had of helping him.

Her knees gave out and she heavily sat back down, shivering slightly, though her underclothes were warm enough for the weather. For a moment she debated finding Aloth and/or Edér, but that would’ve required movement and leaving her cabin, neither of which she wanted to do, so she laid back down and pulled her blanket around herself, hoping the physical warmth would help drive out the chilling fear that had settled in her soul.

Her last somewhat comforting thought before falling into a restless sleep was, that should she have broken his tentative trust too thoroughly to repair it again, she would hand him over to Adaryc. Certainly he would do better, could empathize with him better. He had actually lived through the same events after all. Not like her, who hadn’t dared to leave her safe home in the abbey until it was fifteen years too late. Who hadn’t had the courage to stand and see her god for herself and had instead followed the orders of a king she didn’t know.

But in the end, that was all past and lamenting it useless. Favaen had chosen her path, and she would walk it to the best of her abilities, even if the lantern guiding her flickered sometimes. Even if she sometimes misstepped. Even if she sometimes made mistakes. For she knew with a certainty she knew little else with, that no one was beyond redemption, if they were only willing to work for it.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended more sad than I actually wanted ot to, but then my characters rarely do what I want them to anyway.  
> Now, two things, the two aspects I was originally writing this for: The friend. I'm currently working on a prequel in Waidwen's time, from said friend's perspective. He's my very first actual OC I'm introducing and so wanted a bit of lead in. Also, I just think Waidwen needs a friend. His life was so horrible I just wanted to do something good for him for once. Not that the whole story is just gonna be fluff, but it's not gonna be all terrible either.  
> Then: The Musical. I can justify that, I promise! It would take too long to do it here though, so if you're interested go check my Tumblr account, which I'll link in my profile. I'll also link a youtube playlist (I don't have Spotify unfotunately) with what I think such a musical could sound like.


End file.
